Coming to an Understanding
by Sammy's Angel Team Free Will
Summary: Dean and Sam are shocked when Mary admits to working with the BMOL. While Dean doesn't understand how their mother could so easily play nice with the people who tortured her baby boy, Sam provides some possible insight.


**I have not seen the latest episode, so this may be complete crap. However, I know I'm not the only one who has a hard time swallowing the Mary arch. I don't hate Mary, but I am still trying to wrap my head around her.**

 **Hopefully you'll enjoy this story. I wrote it in one sitting at 2am. Any mistakes are my own.**

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 **Coming to an Understanding**

Sam listens to his mother's words, hesitant, but willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. He's been skirting around the woman, almost walking on eggshells, in attempt to build some semblance of a relationship. He isn't like Dean, there are no memories in which he can establish a baseline, but unlike his big brother, there's no pedestal for his mother to fall off of. She's just another person, a woman, who has entered their family and deserves the chance to grow into herself. Sam's just not positive he fully trusts the person she's turning out to be.

She is linked to them through blood, titled with the reverence of "mom", but really, she isn't much of a mother to them. How could she be though? Her boys are full grown, not really in need of a mother, just some mothering. She's finding her own way; much like Dean and Sam both did when they were no longer under their father's thumb. So, Sam listens to explanation his mother provides, ignoring the ache within his very core, that this is wrong, just wrong.

Sam is fairly certain that casual disregard of the abuse, the torture Sam underwent at their hands bothers Dean as much as it does him. Just because Castiel healed his body, did not mean there were not lingering wounds that festered in the quiet. The mind was a tricky thing to patch up. No amount of medicine or grace was going to restore mental health for either of the Winchesters. Both boys were used to putting such things on the back burner, pretending that they were fine, in hopes that it would become a reality. Maybe they played the roles too well.

By the end of the discussion, it was clear that Sam and Dean had remained steadfast in their convictions, but even still, they were going to try. Mary had not been persuaded by her son's words either. It was a stalemate, but the point still somehow went to Mary. Dean eyed her with a mixture of muted anger and disappointment. Love was there, too, just overwrought.

The puppy gaze of her youngest almost undid her. The soft countenance of understanding and tones of pain and minor disbelief were hard to bear. In the end she focused on Dean. Sam was the first to leave the table, under the pretense of going to bed. Dean followed soon after, not bothering with any more formalities. It was understood that if she wanted, she was welcome to stay and if she didn't, she knew where the door was.

Footfalls against the linoleum floors approached Sam's door. There was no knock, but it wasn't really necessary, not from Dean of all people. Dean popped open the door to find Sam sat back against his headboard, bundled underneath a comforter, waiting. He fiddled with the remote, scouring Netflix, until he settled on an old Batman movie. The mattress sunk down to his right and warmth pressed into his side. No words were spoken, no words were needed.

When the movie ended, Dean rose to go to his own bed, content with knowing Sam was safely tucked into bed. He was about to pull the door open when the silence was broken. "Don't be mad at mom, Dean."

His brow quirked and he turned back to face his sibling. One nostril flared as his lips inched into a half amused smile. "Oh?" His head tilted to the side a touch and he brought the desk chair over to the bed. He sat in it backwards, arms resting on the top of the back support. "So I should be happy she's been lying to us and has been working with the sickos that kidnapped and tortured you, and is willing to blatantly ignore everything we have said or feel on the matter?"

"No. No, of course not, Dean, but you shouldn't be too hard on her either," Sam sighed, weary and scrubbed his face with weathered hands. "She's not doing anything different than we have in the past." He held up a hand to stop the forming protests. "I'm not saying it's right, just that she thinks she is and is just going about it the wrong way. Again, much like we have done several times. Especially me." The self loathe is clear in his expression, but it passes just as quickly as it came.

"Neither one of us has ever worked with the people who hurt us, Sam," Dean argued, voice rising steadily. "She's been gone for over 30 years and suddenly she's an expert on hunting now? Knows who is better? We're not inferior. Who saved the world every time?! Us, Sam. We do!" He's out of the chair and pacing before he realizes it, adrenaline running rampant through his veins.

"I know, Dean," Sam returned, placating his brother's rant. He picks at the loose skin on his thumb, wincing when it detaches and a pinprick of blood swells up. "But, we've worked with some really shoddy people to make an ends meet, when we thought it was for the greater good," he soldiers on. "Crowley, Rowena, Lucifer… Heck, we've worked with the Alpha Vamp and Leviathans to fulfill goals before. We've gone to great lengths just for each other, no world saving involved. She's not really doing any different."

"How could you say that? Mom looked you in eye and basically said it didn't matter what happened to you-"

"What did you expect, Dean," Sam cut in. "She doesn't understand what I went through, what either of us went through. She's a hunter and what do hunters do? We eliminate the monsters that pop up causing murder and or mayhem as swiftly and efficiently as we can."

"She's our mother, dude," Dean stated as if that was the only explanation needed. "She's supposed to be upset that her baby boy was hurt. She's supposed to care."

"She does, Dean," Soft eyes met intense green orbs. "She cares like anyone would, but Dean, you're putting too much on her. She's not my mother in anything but name. She bore me and took care of me for six months and then she was gone. She didn't raise me, there is no motherly bond to uphold. She has that somewhere in her heaven for when she goes back." Dean's shoulders sagged in defeat and he plopped back into the chair. Sam returned to staring at his comforter. "She's doing the best she can, Dean."

Dean pondered Sam's words a moment. His little brother had a point. Dean was enraged at the British Men of Letters for their hand in hurting Sam. However, would he still feel just as strongly if Sam wasn't his brother? Would he still want to rip the people to shreds if he hadn't practically raised Sam? "Yeah. I guess you're right." He got up from his chair, replacing it back under the desk. "I still don't like it, but I get it." He ruffled Sam's messy long hair and gave a wry grin. "You're pretty smart to be the kid of a high school dropout, you know?"

Sam rolled his eyes and smirked. "That's because when mom and dad duties were done for the day, I had a big brother who taught me everything he knew and made sure I could continue to learn."

His heart swelled with pride and he would never admit to the wetness in his eye. He smiled once more and went to leave. "Good night, Sammy."

"G'night, Dee."

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 **Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you thought. Any constructive criticism is welcome, too. Thank you!**


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